Needles
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: Still having a difficult time dealing without Angel, Collins tries to find something to take away the pain . . . causing him to turn to The Man. Sequel to "No Day But Today." Now multi-chaptered. R&R please!
1. Once Is All It Takes

**Hello everybody! Okay, this is the sequel to ****No Day But Today****. This is my first sequel to anything so be nice to me. Please?**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

It had been a little over a year since Collins' attempt at suicide and things seemed to be going back to normal. Maureen and Joanne had broken up and gotten back together two weeks later, Mark was filming again, Roger was writing more songs, and he and Mimi were doing well. Collins, on the other hand, was still having a tough time dealing with the loss of his love. He moved back in with Mark and Roger, but wouldn't really socialize with anyone. He'd stay in his room for hours on end, only leaving it to go to the Life Café occasionally. He wasn't talking to his friends as much and when either of them asked him a question, he only gave half an answer.

Mark came into his room one day armed with his camera and narrating voice.

"Close up: Thomas B. Collins. Our favorite computer genius, college professor, and anarchist in his natural habitat," he said, taking the camera off of Collins and filming around the room. "Notice his pigsty of a room."

"You left out 'sexiest gay guy known to man' when you were describing me," Collins said with a serious expression on his face. Mark laughed.

"I'm sorry. Would you like me to do it over?" he asked.

"No. That's okay." Collins chuckled, laid down on his bed, and stared at the ceiling before Mark broke the small silence.

"Uh, Collins? Can I ask you a question?" he asked. Collins sat up and looked at him.

"Didn't really give me much of choice there, did ya?" he retorted. Mark thought for a moment.

"Guess not," he said.

"Well, what's your _other_ question?" Collins asked.

"Um . . . why does E equal MC squared?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I've just always wanted to know. I mean, how'd Einstein figure it out?"

"Why would you be asking _me _this?"

"Cause he was a genius and you're a genius. I figured maybe you could tell me."

"Okay first of all, when it comes to smarts, Einstein was at the shallow end of the gene pool."

"Meaning?"

"He wasn't that smart."

"Then how'd he come up with that equation?"

"It's simple really. A monkey could figure it out . . . if monkeys could talk."

"Well, what's the answer?"

"He made it up." Mark's eyes widened.

"What!?" he said.

"Yup. The old dude with the fucked up hair lied to the world," Collins said, laying back down. "That all you wanted?"

"Uh . . . I guess." There was another small silence. "Well, I'm gonna go now."

"Bye." Mark started to leave the room, but stopped himself.

"Um . . . Collins?" he said. Collins turned his head toward Mark.

"Yeah?" Collins replied.

"We're all going to Life Café a little later . . . wanna come?"

"Nah. Thanks for the invite though."

"Collins, come on. Seriously, everybody's worried about you."

"Why? I'm fine. I just don't wanna go."

"It'll help you take your mind off Angel." Collins inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry. Was that the wrong thing to say?"

"No . . . I just . . . yes I'll go to the Life Café with you guys." Mark smiled.

"Great. We're heading out at 7:00." Collins nodded and Mark left the room. After staring at the ceiling for a record 15 minutes, Collins grabbed the picture of he and Angel off of the night stand next to his bed. He'd taken it himself after buying a camera to capture the still moments in everyone's life. He sighed and thought about that day.

"_Come on Collins! Just one more!" Maureen begged._

"_Mo, you know I love takin' pictures of you, but I gotta save some film for everybody else too," Collins told her. _

"_Fine." She folded her arms, waited a few moments, then lunged at the camera, but Collins held it out of her reach. _

"_Gotta be faster than that Mo!" Collins teased, holding the camera right above Maureen's head and then put it out of her reach whenever she grabbed for it._

"_Collins," she whined._

"_Maureen." _

"_Don't mock me!"_

"_I can do whatever I want. I'm bigger than you."_

"_Gimmie the camera! Angel, make him give it to me!"_

"_Maureen, sweetie, although we can never have enough pictures of you," Angel said, "everyone else needs some pictures too. Okay?" Maureen re-folded her arms and sat down on the couch next to Joanne._

"_Okay, who's next?" Collins asked, holding his camera to his face._

"_Collins you have pictures of everyone except for two people," Mimi said._

"_Really? Who?"_

"_You and Angel! Duh!"_

"_Oh. How'd I forget about us?"_

"_I'LL TAKE IT!" Maureen yelled._

"_No. You. Won't," Joanne replied, forcing Maureen to sit back down._

"_Honey, you should let Mimi take it," Angel suggested._

"_No, I got it," Collins replied. "You ready?" Angel went behind Collins, wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled as Collins also smiled and held the camera out in front of their faces. He then pushed the button and there was a flash._

"_That's gonna be a nice one," Mark said, cranking up his camera._

"_We can keep it in the frame Maureen made us," Angel said just to cheer the pouting drama queen up._

"_You're gonna use my frame!?" Maureen asked rather excitedly._

"_Of course."_

"_YAY! Pookie, did you hear that?"_

"_Yes, honeybear," Joanne said. "I heard it."_

"_You always know how to cheer someone up," Collins said sitting in the armchair next to the couch and pulling Angel on top of him._

"_I do what I can," Angel replied. She and Collins then shared a deep, loving kiss. _

Collins turned the picture frame around and read the small inscription that read: _To Angel & Collins. I hope you reach your 1,000 kisses. Love, Mo. _He smiled sadly.

"We did Mo," he whispered to himself, "but we never got to 1,001." He turned the picture back over, stared at Angel's smiling face and ran a hand over it before bursting into tears.

* * *

"Collins, why haven't you touched your food?" Mark asked. Collins apparently didn't hear him because he continued to move his pasta around with his fork. "Collins?"

"Hmm?" Collins said, suddenly realizing someone was talking to him.

"You okay baby?" Maureen asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Collins said in the most assuring voice he could.

"You sure man?" Roger asked.

"Yeah," Collins replied. "I'm just gonna step outside for some air." He got up from the table, walked out of the Life Café, crossed the street, and walked into an alley. Leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, he barely heard the footsteps coming toward him.

"Hey," a voice said. Collins opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with The Man. "You look depressed."

"I am depressed," Collins said.

"I got somethin' to make that depression go away." Collins wasn't falling for that one. He knew this guy. Well, not personally, but he knew him enough to know what he was about.

"No. That's alright. I should be gettin' back to my friends." He started to walk back across the street.

"It'll make all your troubles go away," The Man called after him. Collins stopped dead in his tracks though he did everything he could not to. Before he could gain control of his feet, they turned him back around and took him to where The Man was still standing.

"What exactly do you mean?" he asked. The Man took a small stash and a needle out of his pocket.

"This'll take all your troubles away," he said. "Take it." Collins reached for it, but pulled his hand back as soon as he realized what he was doing. "Go ahead. Take it."

"No," Collins said, trying to get his feet to take him back to the safety of the Life Café.

"Come on. First one's free." Without even thinking Collins grabbed both things and stared at them. Then he looked up at The Man. "You'll thank me later." He looked down at the two objects and back up again to find that The Man was gone.

* * *

Collins sat in his room, the door locked, and stared at the now heroin filled needle in his hand. He'd been doing this for about 20 minutes, occasionally putting the needle to his arm and then pulling it away again. The picture of he and his Angel stared him the face as he tried to make up his mind about what to do. Not able to look at the smiling image of Angel anymore, he plunged the needle into his arm. And then he felt it. That carefree feeling The Man said it would bring. He felt as if all his troubles had been lifted and carried away. Like he was floating on air. The feeling that he thought equivalent to happiness. An addictive feeling that only lasted a few minutes, but he wanted it to last forever. He wanted more. Despite his beliefs of never shooting up, he wanted more.

He _needed _more.

**Review please. Please? Press the button and make my day bright! Mistakes ain't my fault!**


	2. Addicted

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

_This is stupid_, Collins thought. _This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever laid my eyes on. _Grading papers on aMonday afternoon. Just as bad as grading papers on a Monday morning, but what's beside the point? Whether he was grading papers in the morning or the afternoon, they all still sucked. Well, not all of them. _Ah. Another excellent paper from Jackie Holmes. _The only time he actually smiled at work was when he was grading a paper of Jackie's. He frowned again as soon as he put her paper down.

As his right hand was preparing to mark all over the paper and leave little comments as well, it started to tremble and the pen dropped to the floor and rolled to the door.

"What the hell?" Collins said to himself, starting to tremble all over.

"Hey, I thought teachers didn't swear," said the voice of a person entering the room, carrying Collins' pen.

"Jackie, I'm not a teacher. I'm a professor. I do believe there's a difference," Collins said, taking the pen from Jackie with a still trembling hand.

"You okay professor?" Jackie asked.

"Yeah. I'm . . . I'm fine. Never better." Honestly, he couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Suddenly, his mind went back to last night. Back to The Man. The needle in his arm. The feeling it brought to him. The fact that he wanted to feel that feeling again. _Needed _to feel it again.

"What's wrong professor?" Collins looked up at Jackie, a look of worry on her face.

"Nothing's wrong. I just need to . . . God. I need air." He quickly got up from his desk, practically ran outside, and started walking. Before he knew it, he was at Central Park sitting on a bench. As he sat with his arms folded and his eyes closed, someone sat beside him.

"Hey there," the person said, catching him off-guard. His eyes snapped open and he saw the absolute _last _person he wanted to see: The Man.

"YOU!" Collins yelled, standing up and grabbing The Man by his shirt collar as he did. "What the hell did you do to me!?"

"Relax," The Man told him. "And let go of my shirt. You're gonna stretch out the collar." Collins slowly let go of The Man.

"Now, tell me what you did!" he demanded.

"I didn't do anything to you."

"Whatever you gave me did somethin' weird to me!"

"But didn't it make you feel good?"

"Well . . . yeah, but that's beside the point!"

"Okay, okay. What exactly is goin' on?"

"One minute I'm fine. The next I'm shakin' and shit! What's that about!? I demand answers right now, or so help me God I'll-" Collins stopped himself in mid-sentence as The Man held a stash right in front of his face. Wherever he moved it, Collins' eyes would follow.

"You want it?" The Man asked. Collins nodded. "You _really _want it?" Collins nodded again. "You sure?"

"YES! GIVE IT TO ME!" Collins yelled, grabbing for the stash. He soon realized what he was doing and stopped. "What's wrong with me?" The Man laughed.

"There's nothin' wrong with you," he said. "You just want more." He held the stash right in Collins' reach. "I can give you more. That is, if you're willin' to pay."

Before even thinking of thinking, Collins felt himself blurt out, "How much?"

"For you, 10 bucks."

"That's all?"

"Hey, it's a generous discount. We got a deal?" The Man held his hand out. Collins dug in his pocket, found a 10 dollar bill, and shook The Man's hand, leaving the money in it and finding the stash in his.

"Deal," he said. The Man smiled and pocketed his newfound profit.

"Great," he replied. "See ya later." He then walked away to do more business with other customers. Collins stared at his newly purchased stash.

_Okay Collins_, he thought._ You're okay. You just need to do it one more time. Just one more. Then, you're off it for good._

* * *

Once again sitting in his room with his door locked staring at his needle, Collins kept trying to assure himself that he wasn't going to do this again. Not after seeing what doing this once could to you. He just couldn't help himself. He cleared his mind and, for the second time, felt the carefree feeling he'd been thinking about all day. Feeling like the king of the world, he declared that he loved this feeling. And he was particularly picky with the things he loved. After coming down from the high, he realized he wasn't going to just quit. He couldn't.

He finally realized what was happening.

_I can still quit. It was only once before_, his mind told him as he left the loft to look around the city for The Man. But once was all it took. He, Thomas B. Collins, was addicted.

**Short and probably has mistakes, I know, but still review. Please? I know people are reading this, but I don't know if those people like it. So, if I don't get any reviews, I'm gonna conclude that this is hated and it'll vanish.**


	3. I Don't Need It

**Okay peeps, I gotta tell you right now that I only wrote . . . oh . . . about a fourth of this chapter. The majority has been written by a good pal of mine. Dr. Crazy Homeschooler, YOU ROCK DUDE! :-)**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"Collins, are you still asleep at," Mark looked at his watch before continuing, "three in the afternoon?" Collins opened his door slowly.

"It's three o' clock?" he asked, scratching his arm.

"Yeah. You were in your room from last night til now. What've you been doing?"

"Readin'." Collins continued to scratch his arm as he came out of his room and sat on the couch.

"Welcome to the life outside your room, Collins," Roger said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Collins laughed and continued to scratch as Maureen entered the loft, uninvited.

"HEY EVERYBODY!" she said loudly.

"Maureen, we can see you without you having to shout every time you enter a room," Roger pointed out. Maureen stuck her tongue out at him and sat next to Collins.

"You're glad I'm here, right?" she said.

"Yeah Mo," Collins said, scratching his arm harder.

"Why are you scratching?"

"I'm just . . . itchy," Collins replied, starting to scratch his arm even harder. Mimi then entered the loft.

"Hola friends!" She shouted, jumping onto Roger's lap. Collins kept itching, scratching, burning.

"Collins, are you sick?" Mimi's eyebrows knit together.

"NO! HE'S ITCHY!" Maureen screamed. Mark clapped his hands over his ears and meekly said, "Yes."

"Lemme see!" Mimi got up, grabbed Collins' arm, and slightly lifted his sleeve. Her eyes widened when she realized what she saw. "Chico? Will you come with me into your room?"

"Sure. Why?" Collins pulled his arm back, put his sleeve down, and continued scratching. Mimi's only reply was to purse her lips together. They walked into Collins' "natural territory" and he sat down on his bed, still scratching.

Mimi lifted his sleeve all the way up, pulled his arm out, and examined it closely. "Collins, this had better not be what I think it is . . . " she looked as though she was about to cry. Collins jumped. No. She couldn't know.

"That depends on what you think it is," Collins said.

Mimi stared at his arm for a moment. "Heroin?" she whispered. She knew the signs. Collins hesitated then nodded. "YOU IDIOT!" Mimi screamed, slapping Collins across the face.

"OW! What was that for? I didn't do nothin'!" Collins tried to protest, knowing full well that he was lying.

"YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!?" Mimi's voice suddenly dropped. "You didn't do anything?! What do you suppose? A loaded needle floated to you and got you addicted? Really?"

"I just … wanted to feel good."

"You wanted to feel good? After watching me and Rog go through withdrawal? You're heartless." Mimi looked dangerous, like a cat about to jump and feast on its prey.

"Well, Roger is still alive!" Collins shouted.

"I'm telling Mark and Rog, they'd better know." Mimi glowered. Collins didn't answer right away, he was too busy in his "happy place." When he realized what Mimi had said, he reached out a hand to grab her. But she was already gone.

"DAMN!" He punched his pillow. Mark and Roger were going to kill him. He needed to feel happy. Free. Good. Collins grabbed his needle and stuck it into his arm, right where it burned the worse. He began to feel the smack flood his system, making him feel warm and content. Just like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, but magnified a hundred times.

A few moments later, an angry Mark and a depressed Roger walked in.

"Mimi had better be lying!" Mark warned. His face was red. Even his eyebrows seemed to have a reddish tint. Everything was red except his nose, which remained white as ever.

_He looks like a panda! _Collins thought. Then he started to laugh.

"Okay,_ apparently_ someone did get high." Roger muttered.

"Collins? Can you hear me? Earth to Collins!" Mark waved his hand in front of Collins' face.

"Yes Marky-panda?" Collins chuckled. Mark clutched his forehead.

"You are going to quit. Tomorrow. End of story," he firmly stated.

"But what if I don't wanna? I love feelin' goooooood," Collins sang.

"Collins, get some sleep before you give me an aneurysm." Roger sighed.

"Yes Mommy!" Collins fell back onto his bed, giggling. Mark and Roger exchanged a look before walking out of the room.

Collins floated in and out of consciousness all night, and by five o'clock in the morning he finally fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Mark and Roger stayed true to their word. When Collins woke up, he couldn't find his stash anywhere. He couldn't leave the loft without someone with him. He was forced to quit his job because he was sick all the time, and he found no enjoyment in reading anymore.

The first three days were the roughest. The first day was horrible, but to add to his misery the toilet in the loft was backed up so he had to use Mimi's. Not fun. The second day was the worst, even though he had a functioning toilet. He was hot, then he was cold, then he was hot on the inside and cold on the outside. He was suffocating, but when he stuck his head out the window it didn't feel any better. The third day was much like the second, though Collins could finally stomach a little soup down.

* * *

The next six months passed in a blur. Nights were the worst and he slept most of the day. Each day was melded into the next.

"Collins? Are you ready for a journey into the real world?" Mark asked.

"Do I have to?" Collins whined. He liked his couch. It was … form fitting.

"Yes."

"But I don't wanna."

"It would be good for you. I'll call Maureen and see if she'll come, okay?" Mark stood up and walked over to the phone.

"I don't wanna," Collins repeated. He was sick of life. Sick of everything.

Mark dialed Maureen's number. Soon she was at the loft door, smiling. She hadn't seen Collins in weeks and was already hyper.

"HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII COLLINS!" she screamed, throwing herself at him.

"Hey Mo," Collins replied as he patted her curls.

"WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO TODAY!?" She jumped up and down, still hugging him.

"Whatever Mark wants us to do," Collins muttered, pushing the diva away from him. She pouted.

"I was thinking you guys could go to the Life Café and then maybe you'd go to a bookstore?" Mark smiled meekly.

"Sure." Maureen seemed to pick up Collins' dreary mood. So the drama queen and the anarchist walked out of the loft, down the street, and they headed toward the Life. Maureen kept up a constant chatter the whole way, and while they were waiting for their food Collins excused himself from the table, walking out of the door.

He walked with his hands in his pockets, thinking about _her_. _His _Angel. He didn't notice his feet carry him into an alleyway, and he jumped when he heard a voice.

"I thought I'd see you eventually," The Man sneered. "It's been six months. What happened?"

"I figured out there was more to life than heroin," Collins spoke to the uneven bricks under his feet.

"Really? Did you figure it out all on your own, or did your friends figure it out for you?" The Man raised an eyebrow.

"Um . . . " Collins trailed off.

"Just what I thought. Here." He thrust a packet into Collins' hand.

"But-" Collins protested.

"Come back when you want." He heard The Man say. "I'll be waiting."

Collins rushed through the door of the café and quickly found his table.

"Hey! Where'd you go?" Maureen had already started eating.

"Er . . . to the bathroom." He grabbed his tofu dog and took a bite. Maureen continued to fill the rest of the day with chatter, needing only the slightest nudges from Collins to keep her going.

* * *

Collins didn't have his needle anymore, so he decided to just sleep with the baggie under his pillow for the night. As he fell asleep he wasn't sure if he even wanted it anymore.

* * *

_Collins knew he was dreaming. For one thing, New York City parks were never so clean. And they definitely smelled way worse. For another, there were no people here. But there was a bench. Collins shrugged his shoulders and walked over. It was his dream after all, so he could sit wherever he wanted to. _

_He sat twiddling his thumbs and waiting. For what, he didn't know. Soon a figure appeared. The person was slight, and was wearing a creamy colored dress. And leather boots. Collins finally got a good few of the person's face. His heart stopped. He was about to say something, but a finger shushed him. _

"_What the hell were you thinking!?" Angel screeched, shaking Collins hard._

"_What?"_

"_What the hell were you thinking, taking drugs?" Angel pinched Collins' ear. "That's right, you weren't thinking!" _

"_Ang . . ." Collins breathed. _

"_I'm very angry with you. Don't 'Ang' me!" Angel glared at him._

"_I'm sorry!" he yelped._

"_You'd better be," she growled._

"_Angel, I've missed you." a few lonely tears dripped down Collins' face. He had missed her. _

"_Oh. Honey, I've missed you like something awful." Angel kissed his forehead. Her kiss felt good and solid, just like they used to._

"_How long will I be able to see you?"_

"_Until you wake up." _

_Collins' heart sank. "Do I hafta wake up?" he sniffed._

"_Yes, darling, you do. You've got a life to live." Angel sat down next to him on the bench._

"_But I don't wanna live it without you." Collins tried not to sound like a whiney five-year-old, but he failed dismally. _

"_I know. I don't want you to be sad." Angel moved her arms to wrap them around Collins._

"_Why do I hafta wake up?" _

"_Because you have lots of work to do, mister!" She smiled._

"_Angel? Can I tell you somethin'?" _

"_Sure." _

"_I love you. More than you know. To the moon and back again. I miss you." He started sobbing._

"_Don't cry. You'll see me again soon, I promise." Angel held him for the first time in almost a year._

"_I will?" Collins suddenly felt hopeful._

"_Yes, but I'll only come if you live life to the fullest. NYU needs a teacher. Your friends miss you." Angel gently stroked the side of Collins' face. Collins was about to agree when the dream started swirling, all the colors melting like oil paints on a canvas. _

* * *

When Collins woke up, the first thing he did was flush the little baggie down the drain. He didn't need it to feel alive anymore.

Next he dialed NYU's number. And he swore he smelled something sweet and angelic when he said, "Hello? NYU? Yes. My name is Thomas B. Collins, and I'm a professor of computer age philosophy . . ."

**YAY FOR TEAMWORK! Okay, so I only did a **_**little **_**of the work, but still YAY FOR TEAMWORK! :-D**


	4. Promises, Promises

**This is the next chapter. One more chapter and this sad story will be done.**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

It had been a while since Collins had worn a tie, but this was a special occasion. He was going back to work. Of course he'd already predicted that as soon as he stepped one foot into the classroom he'd hate his job just as he did before. If his tie would cooperate with him.

_Damn tie_, he thought. _Why do you refuse to be tied? _Mimi suddenly appeared in his room.

"Need some help?" she asked, giggling as she walked to his side.

"Not from those who laugh at me," Collins replied, still struggling with his tie. "DAMN THIS THING TO HELL!"

"Turn toward me." Collins did as Mimi said and watched as she tied his tie for him. "Not very good at this, are we?"

"Angel always did it for me." There was a silence between them as Mimi finished with the tie.

"Wait . . . you've got on a tie, your good shirt, _and _your good pants. You got a date or something?"

"Yup. With about 20 college students." Mimi laughed and straightened Collins' tie.

"I'm really proud of you," she said, making Collins smile. "But I'll only _stay _proud if you promise me you'll never turn to drugs to solve your problems again. You promise?"

"Yeah," Collins replied. "I promise." He kissed the top of Mimi's head, grabbed his coat, and left the he walked down the street, he heard people behind him. He glanced behind him, saw that there were three of them, and began walking faster.

So did they.

It wasn't long before Collins was being chased into the same alley by the same three guys that had mugged him the night he'd met Angel (he made sure he didn't trip). Glancing behind him again he noticed, to his horror, the three had multiplied to six. He turned his head back around and immediately stopped into his tracks.

_Dead end_, he thought. He was suddenly grabbed by two of the guys who were chasing him. As he braced himself to, once again, be mugged by these people he heard a voice.

"Hey!" the voice of The Man said. That's all he had to say before the muggers scattered and left the alley.

"You just . . . saved my life," Collins said, slightly shocked.

"Can't let anything happen to my best client, can I?" Collins' shock turned into a mixture of confusion and fear.

"I already told you I don't need your drugs anymore," he said. The Man raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" he asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Cause once you make a deal with me, the only way you get out of it is . . . well, you know."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"It's simple really." The Man took a pocket knife out of his coat pocket. "Need I say anything more?" Collins shook his head. "Good." The Man put his knife back in his pocket. "So, you wanna buy your usual?"

"Um . . . sure," Collins said, digging in his pocket hoping to find some money.

"Don't worry about that," The Man told him, handing him a small stash. "Consider me saving your life your payment." He walked off and Collins stared at his newly obtained stash. He'd obviously been doing this _way _too long if he had a "usual." He stuffed the stash into his pocket and decided to make plans on getting rid of it later.

**

* * *

**

Collins walked into the loft almost completely drained of energy. It was 7:00 p.m. and he was just now getting home. He usually got home way before that, but since it was his first day in a long time, he was swamped with . . . well . . . everything.

"Hey, Collins," Mimi said from the couch. "How was your first day back?"

"Long," Collins said, draping his coat over the beat up armchair. "I need some sleep."

"Before you go, do you have a lighter," Roger asked.

"Yeah," Collins replied. "It's in my coat pocket." Roger nodded, picked up Collins' coat, and started searching the pockets all before Collins realized he hadn't gotten rid of the stash The Man had given him earlier.

"WAIT A MINUTE!" But it was too late. Roger pulled the stash from the pocket and his eyes widened in horror.

"Collins, you . . . you promised!" Mimi shouted.

"It's not what it looks like!" Collins said.

"Then what the hell is it!?" Roger asked angrily.

"The Man . . . he . . . he made me take it. He . . . threatened to-"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Mimi interrupted, storming into Roger's room.

"_Why _do you have this!?" Roger asked.

"Roger, I wasn't gonna do anything with it," Collins told him. "Honest. I was gonna get rid of it."

"How!? By using it!?"

"No! Just forget it!" Collins snatched the stash out of Roger's hand and left the loft with his coat. He raced down the stairs, out the door, and into an alley before he stopped. He stared at the dumpster just feet away from him. After thinking for a moment, he threw the stash away.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he heard an angry voice ask. Only this time it wasn't Roger's. Collins turned around to face The Man, who looked furious.

"I-I don-" Collins started.

"Didn't I tell you there was only one way to get out of a deal with me?" The Man interrupted.

"Yeah, but . . . my friends . . . they think I-"

"I don't give a damn about your friends!" The Man produced his pocket knife again. "You want outta this deal!? Fine! You're out!" He came closer to Collins.

"Please, I-" That was all Collins could out before he felt The Man's knife being pushed into his stomach. It was twisted and then finally pulled out, causing Collins to fall to his knees. He put one hand over his wound and the other on the side of the building. As The Man left the alley, Collins slowly began blacking out.

"Collins!" he heard someone's voice call. He couldn't make out if it was a guy or a girl. He just knew it sounded scared and panicked. "Collins!" The voice sounded closer now, but that made no difference to Collins.

He'd lost control of himself, forgetting how to breathe, talk, or even move, as the rest of him involuntary fell to the ground and the blackness set in . . .

**Review please.**


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